1. Fear the Funny

It was a lonely night in the aptly named Two Wands pub for both men. Though the glitz and laughter of the place surrounded them, they were still drowning heartbreak, hundreds of years old.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was fairly certain that was the order his middle names went in, but was too drunk to be absolutely certain. Frankly, he was too drunk to be absolutely certain he was alive, and absolutely certain that if he drank that whole next round of firewhiskey he wouldn’t be. He was also too drunk to care.

Aro (just Aro), master of the Volturi (at least the only one who ever talked), king of the vampires (unofficially), and mindreader (voyeuristically), was not drunk. He had been, until recently, watching a young man divest himself of his clothing, but had decided he’d rather experiment. Aro was, you see, perpetually curious. This evening, he wished to determine whether or not he could drown the sorrows of loneliness in the blood of some of the drunks hanging around this bar.

He spotted a man sitting on edge, alone, clutching a terrifyingly large drink in his hands. All he could see of the man were his flamboyantly magenta robes. Then again, flamboyance was a popular trait among the clientele at the Two Wands.

And then Albus turned to face the man. “Hello,” he said morosely. “Who’re you pining for?” Aro smiled and sat down in a bar stool beside the man. “If I may?”

“Of course, of course. I’d have asked, but I’m drunk.”

“I see.” Instead of simply strolling out back and continuing the experiment, he finds himself drawn to sit here and talk. If it weren’t a ludicrous suggestion, he’d say he was attracted to the old man tugging on his white beard, the vibrantly red drink still in the whiskers around his lips.

But Aro hasn’t been attracted to anyone… not since… “Carlisle. My friend, my…”

“Your friend? With benefits?”

“Well, of course.” Aro smiled and gestured at himself. “Who could resist?”

“Ah.”

“May I ask who has driven you to this copious consumption of alcohol?”

“Gellert, my love, my friend… I have lost him to the darkness!”

“Fascinating! I find the opposite is true, for myself. Carlisle left me because I insisted on continuing to commit murder on a regular basis.”

Ordinarily, Dumbledore would have objected to this, but he really is wasted. He nods slowly, and then said, “You know, it’s been a hundred years since I’ve had sex.”

Usually, this garnered a shocked and pitying response. Aro scoffed. “Honestly. That’s rather pitiful… try three hundred and twenty.”

Albus winced. “Ooh. I am terribly sorry about that.”

“Me too, believe me.”

“If I were sober, I’d go about this properly, but how about you and me remedy that situation behind the building in ten minutes?”

Aro nodded. It was a deal.

The next morning, the two flagrantly homosexual and disturbingly enthusiastic old guys woke up side by side on the concrete sidewalk. Well, Dumbledore woke up. Aro hid the body he’d just drained of blood and coughed loudly.

Albus smiled. “I don’t care how many people you kill. This is love, and the power of love is the greatest magic!” Aro shrugged. “Fascinating!”

They may have been on opposite sides of the battle between good and evil, but they definitely batted for the same team.

Twenty years later…

Sulpicia sobbed. “Italy… I need Italy… shit, I’m in Italy! What do I do now?”